Alike
by Faramir's Tumbleweed
Summary: Elboron and Faramir have a talk and bonding time after the death of Éowyn.


**Summary: **Elboron and Faramir have a talk and bonding time after the death of Éowyn.

**A/N: **I wanted to make this a story, not a one shot; but I thought: "Ah, too much crap." So I condensed it and here it is. Oh, by the way, this story is told by Elboron (the unappreciated son of Gondor).

**Disclaimer: **Evanya belongs to me. You'll soon see who she is.

Father was in his study, reading. It has been five weeks since Mother's death. We have barely spoken, far apart as we have grown. I can barely remember a time Father was at home for more than three consecutive days. The only time I can remember three of us laughing together was at Dol Amroth. I was eight then. Father's late uncle Imrahil invited us there for the summer. But that memory is almost twelve years old.

I knocked on the door. Father looked up from the scroll. He saw me standing there, in the open doorway. He rubbed his weary eyes and said wearily, "Enter." I did as he did. He gestured to a stool next to the bed he and Mother once shared. "Please," said he. "Sit."

I sat.

"Is there something you would like to tell me, Elboron?" said Father.

Many people say I look much like Father, though I have Mother's hair. They say we both have the same spirit, the same nose, the same gentle heart, and courage. Courage! Father could battle orcs in Osgiliath during the Great Years; Mother could slay the Witch-king on the field of Pelennor. And I? I could barely to bring myself to kill the rat that scared the maid Evanya out of her wits.

"Well?" asked Father.

I took the letter out of my pocket. It had been folded into four. Father picked the paper up and unfolded it. His keen eyes quickly scanned it, and he said: "So what have you told your uncle?"

The letter had come that morning. I knew what it said. I was being offered the position of Third Marshal of the Riddermark, though I was already Captain of Gondor, the position my father once held.

"I have not replied," said I. "The letter only came in the morning. The messenger is being housed with the servants in the East Wing. I told him I would send my reply tomorrow morning." I paused. "Or," I added, "go with him, if that be my decision."

Father read the letter again. "You know," said he, "your mother would want you to have this position. She would be very proud of you. Her brother sets his standards very high."

"I pity cousinElfwine," said I. "He has so much to live up to."

Father chuckled, the first time he has laughed since the passing of Mother.

"Yes," agreed my father. "I do suppose so."

I sighed. "I am not sure on what to do, Father. I want to go, yet I feel so obligated to stay in Gondor, where my allegience lies: I am already her captain. That is why I came to you, Father. I want to have your counsel."

"Your mother would want you to have this position. She would be very proud of you," Father repeated.

My temper--which I inherited from my mother's side and is rarelydisplayed--flared. "Well!" I spat. "Mother isn't here now, Father!"

Father's face showed no sign of wrath, which made me regret my harsh reaction.

"I am sorry," said I. "I did not mean to react. I beg pardon."

"You wept a lot at Éowyn's funeral," said Father softly.

I felt myself flush. "I regret it," said I. "Uncle Éomer said to me once, 'A boy should never cry. He should stand fast and dry-eyed, ready to take on what the world springs upon him. No matter how hard, a boy should never cry.' I am surprised he still wants me as his Marshal."

Father laughed again, more heartily this time. "You know," said he softly, "I heard your uncle cried when he found your mother's body stricken upon the field."

This time, _I _laughed. "Truly?"

Father laughed again, nodding.

I stopped laughing. "Father," said I, "the reason why I do not what to serve Uncle Éomer is because..." I hesitated. "Well, Father, I fear him. I fear him like I fear you."

Father was surprised. "What do you fear about me, my son?"

"I fear I will never be able to live up to you. You and Mother are brave and valiant. You both are remembered in songs in Rohan and scrolls of the tales of the Second War of the Ring. You both slew many enemies during the Great Years. And I?" I sighed. "I cannot bring myself to even kill a rat."

He placed a hand on my shoulder. "Oh my son," said Father softly. "Oh my dear Elboron. That is not fear. It is _compassion_. When I was a captain of the Rangers in Ithilien, I commanded those under my command never to slay an animal unless it is for a good reason. You remind me of myself when I was your age, Elboron. Your grandfather, Denethor thought that compassion was fear and incompetence. I knew I was doing the right thing; and that is what really matters. You need not fear what people think of you. You should believe in what you are doing, when you know it is right.

"And Elboron, I see some of my brother Boromir in you, too. I truly think that you will be a great leader, just like him."

I smiled. "Do you really think so, Father? That I will be a great marshal in Rohan?"

"With all my heart."

I got up to leave. "I shall start preparing for my departure immedietly."

As I let the room, I could almost feel Mother smiling down on me.

**A/N: **Love it? Hate it? REVIEW!


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